We Stitch These Wounds
by KhurushaBvBArmyCain
Summary: 'The tears we've cried, this love has died, you're by yourself with me tonight. It's what we hide with every lie, and stitch these wounds with me tonight.' Two months after Spanish Flu, Cora tries to heal the rift between her and Robert.
1. Heartbreak's Your Favourite Pain

**Prologue: Heartbreak's Your Favourite Pain**

They were lying in their bed, side by side as usual, but the closeness, ease and comfort they had with one another before the war had completely disappeared. Robert was reading the same passage of text over and over, pretending to be engrossed in his book, head turned slightly to the left. To the right of him Cora was staring blankly at the far wall, women's magazine discarded across her lap, pointedly looking away from her husband.

This twisted sense of companionship stretched on, an overwhelming silence settling over the room. So many words needed to be said, but no-one made a move to speak them. They both sat there like statues, unmoving, as hard as stone on the outside, but rotting slowly on the inside. The sense of tension weighed down like a ton of bricks. Cora decided to make a move to shatter the silence that had plagued her bedroom for weeks but as soon as she began to open her mouth, Robert reached over and turned off the lights before leaning to his right and kissing Cora awkwardly on the cheek. He mumbled a quick goodnight, eyes looking everywhere but at her, and settled down against his pillows, back turned to her.

Cora sighed and followed suit, praying that sleep would come to her quick. It didn't as usual. It hadn't since she heard what she couldn't have heard going on in her husband's dressing room when she had the Flu. The sound of building passion, interrupted by Bates before (she hoped) anything serious had happened, but passion nonetheless. Passion he hadn't shown her for months on end.

She began to toss and turn, unable to find comfort in the bed, despite Robert's body next to hers that used to give her solace, that used to chase away even her darkest nightmares and deepest fears. She could remember a time when she couldn't sleep without him. Now she couldn't sleep even with him near, no longer calmed by his presence, only hurt when he couldn't bring himself to touch her, to only press a hurried kiss against her cheek, now just a tradition, nothing more, feeling lonelier than she had in their first year of marriage.

At least he was fond of her then.

Now he was cautious, more reserved than ever, angry, judgemental. She could no longer understand his emotions, could no longer read him like a book.

And that was mostly her fault.

Yes, the war had come to Downton, that played a part at least. It had touched many lives, wounded many people mentally and physically and had not left their marriage unscarred, unscathed. But ultimately she had neglected him and left him struggling in a changing world. As Cora lay awake thinking, as she had done on many other occasions these two months, on what went wrong, what she had done and hadn't done, and how her relationship with Robert had deteriorated so much that they could barely speak with one another without awkwardness or arguments, she still found that she couldn't completely understand all of their estrangement.

What had changed their easy banter to barbed words that cut and wounded?

What had turned their lovemaking back into a duty, a false sense of fulfillment of their marriage and nothing more?

What had stopped his gentle touches, his reaching for her hand occasionally in public, his passionate kisses, his tender, loving words that she so craved to hear?

And as sleep began to claim her she was silently asking Robert the question she couldn't bear even to acknowledge, she definitely couldn't bear to voice.

_'Robert, what happened to us?'_


	2. Chapter 1: You Kissed The Lips Of Evil

_A/N: WARNING! WARNING! WARNING! JASON BATEMAN ALERT! JASON BATEMAN ALERT! It's only in the the first tiny of the chapter so if you don't want to read her then just skippity skippity over that bit. Also I've been studying Macbeth for my exams so yeah, it's kinda influenced me a bit with all the dreamy ghosty stuff. And I'm sorry for taking so long to update but exams and school and things got in the way so I hope you guys are still following this story. This chapter is way more angsty than I planned so please let me know what you think. Also this chapter shows more what Robert is thinking and feeling rather than the prologue bit which shows more Cora than Robert. I'm not sure when I will be able to update again so enjoy this bit and I'll try to write when I haven't got revision and things._

* * *

**Chapter One: You Kissed The Lips Of Evil, Two Months Is All The Same**

_Two Months Previously_

He pressed his lips against hers insistently for the second time since she'd arrived at Downton, she fervently returning his kiss with passion. He closed his eyes trying to lose himself in her, but he couldn't shake the lingering feeling in his mind that something was wrong. Somehow they didn't quite fit, they never had.

He pushed away this thought and kissed her deeply, trying to forget that she was in a cap and apron, not a delicate silk nightgown, trying to forget that he couldn't smell the scent of a certain perfume from Paris on alabaster skin. He traced his tongue along her bottom lip and she gasped, his tongue dipping into her mouth and seeking out her own. She pressed harder against him as he heard a door handle turn and the outer door to his dressing room open.

Robert had no other choice but to quickly push Jane away as his valet, John Bates, opened the door.

* * *

_Now_

_Cora is lying on the bed, skin too pale, sweat lining her brow. She is thrashing around, movements wild as she struggles to take one more gasp of air. O'Brien tries to steady her flailing limbs but she just leans over them and throws up in a bowl that Sybil is holding. Her movements still and silence falls upon the room, occasionally broken by her strained breaths, ragged and wheezing. _

_You turn to Doctor Clarkson, worry and pain written clearly across your face, and ask him if she will live._

_"If she gets through the night, she will survive." _

_You take in a sharp intake of breath before turning back towards your wife. She suddenly leans forward, blood pouring from her nose, trying in vain to stop the liquid from staining the cream sheets. Sybil whips out a handkerchief and holds it to her mother's nose, stemming the flow of crimson._

_Then all blurs._

_It's the next morning when you wake up and turn to your wife, concern writ across your features._

_She is lying utterly still, deathly pale. You reach over to touch her forehead to find it stone cold. Her chest is unmoving, the air no longer pierced by her strained breaths._

_Her pulse is non-existent._

_You just stare, tears scouring your cheeks, heart-wrenching sobs wracking through your body. You clutch her lifeless form, kissing every inch of her cold, cold face as if to resurrect her. You stop and gaze into her eyes, vacant and stained, your vision blurring. _

_And you scream._

* * *

Robert woke up in a cold sweat, a scream issuing from his lips. His breathing was heavy as he stared at the wall of the darkened room, the image of Cora's lifeless body burned into his mind. He turned to his right to see Cora thankfully sleeping peacefully, seemingly undisturbed by his cries.

"Thank God, thank God", he whispered as his tears began freely flowing again. She was warm, breathing, content and alive. He looked at her, just listening to the steady rhythm of her breaths, revelling in her soft murmurs of "Robert" despite all they had been through.

He settled back down after a while, wrapping an arm around her middle, snuggling into the curve of her shoulder. He inhaled her scent and kissed her neck before sleep claimed him once more.

* * *

_The family is gathered around you, Cora strangely absent. They are all socialising, after-dinner drinks and conversations in the drawing room. Your eyes scan around the room, searching for Cora, but to no avail. _

_Then Matthew comes up to you, Scotch in hand, a sorry look on his face._

_"I'm so sorry, Robert. I know that we all sound like parrots, but we are truly sorry for your loss."_

_You are hit with confusion, brow furrowing._

_"Excuse me, my loss you say?"_

_But Matthew just looks sorrowfully at you, shaking his head, before returning to Mary and Isobel._

_You scan the room once more, suddenly noticing the odd looks you are getting from some of the other guests. You walk over to your Mama, a questioning glance spread across your face. She turns to you with the same look painted on her features._

_"Robert, my dear, you didn't need to come down. I have it all under control."_

_"Whatever do you mean, Mama?"_

_"After the events of yesterday we all assumed that you would want some rest."_

_"What events? What happened yesterday?"_

_A momentary flicker of sadness flits across her face as she says the next words, her voice uncharacteristically soft._

_"Your wife died of the Flu."_

_You excuse yourself before falling into an armchair, shock overcoming you, making you numb. You sit in disbelief before the images of your last dream begin to plague your mind._

_Then she appears, ragged and paler than you have ever seen her before but still devastatingly beautiful. She glides across the room towards you, face devoid of expression. She raises a finger pointing straight at your heart. _

_"Cora?"_

_But she takes no notice._

_"My love?"_

_Her mouth slowly opens as she utters in a soft voice:_

_"Your fault."_

_Then her voice turns cold, emotionless, unfeeling._

_"Your fault."_

_A shout that topples you to the ground, that brings you to your knees._

_"Your fault."_

* * *

Robert jerked awake, his arm still around Cora's middle. Guilt coursed its way through him as the memories of Jane came flooding back. He sat up, gently removing his arm from Cora's waist, and put his head in his hands, shutting his eyes.

_A tombstone. She died of a broken heart._

He snapped his eyes open, the image fading, and turned to Cora, simply gazing at her, before laying a tender hand on her cheek and speaking softly, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Cora, I love you so, so much. I know that I have been a terrible husband of late and I just want you to know how sorry I am. I need to tell you about... about Jane but I don't want to hurt you anymore. In fact I never wanted to hurt you. I'm so sorry, my love and I just hope I can find the courage to tell you this when you are awake," he whispered haltingly, knowing that she couldn't hear him.

He stroked her hair for a few moments before kissing her forehead and making his way to the dressing room door. Even if his sleep would continue to be ravaged by nightmares, at least he didn't have to disturb her. He whispered one last "I love you" into the darkened room before opening the door and getting into his cold, lumpy, uncomfortable dressing room bed.

On the other side of the door, Cora awoke to the sound of the adjoining door clicking shut. She turned over to where Robert should to find it empty and still warm with his body heat, covers crinkled from him leaving the bed.

Even despite their recent differences, he still slept in the same bed as her, he occasionally still shared his day with her, he still kissed her goodnight, albeit an awkward one. What had changed?

Hurt, wounded and left floundering in a sea of misunderstanding, Cora, for the first time since their first year of marriage, cried herself to sleep.


End file.
